blink my bleary eyes. I must be losing the plot. I’ve blamed late night cheese for Noah’s appearance in my dreams; cheddar can’t be responsible for the fact he’s on my doorstep.
‘I know you’re pleased to see me really. Are you going to let me in, or shall I stay on the doorstep and yell ‘wow Rosie, that was the best sex I’ve had for years’ at the top of my voice, then stagger off down the street?’
‘Don’t you bloody dare.’ I grab the front of his top, drag him in and glance furtively up and down the street. It does not look good, a man on the doorstep when I’m still in my PJs.
‘Oh my God I had no idea that pyjamas with rabbits on could be so sexy!’ He groans, and I suddenly realise I’m clutching him to me, so shove him away.
‘They’re cosy!’ I glare at him. ‘And they’re not rabbits, they’re dogs!’
‘Really?’ He leans back in to peer more closely, rests one hand on my scantily clad waist and the warmth of it burns straight through. It’s like he’s found direct access to the deepest part of my body and I seem to be melting. And fizzing. And a little bit scared and far too excited. ‘Stop it!’ I think I might have leapt rather over-dramatically into the air, like a rabbit.
His eyes open wide.
‘Sorry, sorry, I was talking to me, not you.’
‘What?’ He’s even more confused now. I don’t blame him, so am I. I’d had a split second to choose between rubbing myself against him like an over-sexed cat or bouncing about like a puppy. I go ‘puppy’ every time.
See, this is what happens when I’m caught out half-asleep by a man with a sexy smile and warm hands. Sexy smile, where did that come from? Boy it’s got hot in here, even with the front door open.
‘Can you excuse me, just one moment?’
He nods. I go into the kitchen, flap the bottom of my pyjama top, splash my face with ice cold water, bang my head on the fridge door and plaster a smile on my face.
‘Are you okay?’ He’s followed me into the kitchen.
I nod.
I’m not okay at all.
He’s caught me unawares, literally walked out of my dream and in through my front door in real life. In my dream he’d got considerably further than my front door, he’d also got considerably less clothes on. And he’d got his fingers tangled in my hair, and his lips burning a path down my neck. He’d reached the sensitive spot on my neck that makes me shiver. And unlike Robbie, Noah is lingering in a way that’s made me all hot and bothered.
I’m still hot and bothered. Just not being kissed. Dream fantasies and reality are not supposed to mix. It’s confusing. Too confusing.
‘You’ve got wet hair.’ He frowns.
‘I know. Forget it, it’s nothing.’ It’s my turn to frown as I back into the corner next to the cooker. I never realised this kitchen was so small. One more step and we’ll have moved onto another of my fantasies.
Stop, Rosie!
‘Why are you here? It’s eight o’clock in the morning, and my day off! You woke me up!’
‘You’re so cute when you’re sleepy but angry at the same time!’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, something about the tousled hair, the spark in your eye and—’
‘You know what I mean! Why are you here! Now, in my kitchen.’ I self-consciously touch my hair and try not to look pleased.
‘Oh yeah, well it’s your day off!’ He grins triumphantly.
‘Er, yes. But it’s not yours.’ How did he remember it was my day off? Nobody remembers stuff like that. Robbie didn’t, not even Mum does. Well, I guess Robbie’s mum sometimes did. She had it all written on the calendar – a column for each of them, and even one for me. It’s sad realising nobody is that bothered in my life any more. That the nearest thing I had to a family has disappeared into thin air. Or Wales.
Except now Noah bothers. Damn the man, he’s just so nice, so thoughtful, so …
‘Cooee it’s only me! I’ve got a parcel for you!’ A loud voice slices straight through my thoughts. Which is a good and a bad thing. Good because I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’m starting to like Noah far too much, and not just because he’s undeniably hot, bad because it’s my nosy neighbour.